Off the Beaten Path
by Aeroway
Summary: A collection of one-shots dedicated to those who are often overlooked: the secondary characters of the series.
1. Simplicity

**A/N: Good and evil aren't so clearly defined in the real world as they are in stories. Please leave a review and tell me how it worked out!**

**I don't own Animorphs.**

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><p>"The Head of the Galactic Union has found it prudent to banish Crayak from Lai-Chok for serious misdemeanors. Any attempts to circumvent this exile will be dealt with swiftly and harshly. You have 2.5 megaflows(1) to exit this galaxy."<p>

I scoffed. The Galactic Union was a joke. Lai-Chok, or any galaxy for that matter, was far too massive to rule under one system of government. The creatures were simply too diverse; what was an endearing compliment in one system could be misconstrued as the vilest insult in another. The common language helped ease these situations, but there were always going to be exceptions.

How was I supposed to know that, under their religion, the Fen-Za worshipped their moon before I redirected an asteroid into it? If I recall correctly, just 82 kiloflows ago, approximately 30% of the galaxy was complaining about the negative tidal effects that their moons caused. The Fen-Za should have been thanking me, not attacking me with their primitive nuclear fission weapons!

But I digress. All in all, I had grown sick of the Lai-Chok galaxy. Their contradictory ideals, conflicting mannerisms, and disgusting hypocrisy outweighed the excitement from the various games that I played.

Still, my exile did give me plenty of time to think. In the end, although I did not like to admit it, I _did_ fear the Galactic Union. While the idea of unifying an entire galaxy was ludicrous and laughable, they collectively possessed far more power than I could ever hope to face. Every one power in the galaxy was able to be checked and overturned by another. But the Union stood above it all, and in that one aspect I admired them, even if I hated it.

I travelled through Z-space for 1.7 megaflows before arriving at another galaxy. I activated my sensors, sweeping out the area around me. The data flooded back into my system; this galaxy was spiral, like Lai-Chok, and I was at the farthest extremity of one of its arms. The closest star was a red dwarf, barren of any planets. I swept another system. No life. Another. Nothing.

Exasperated, I considered traveling to another, more interesting galaxy, until the first signs of life began lighting up the displays. It was in a binary system, centered around a white dwarf and a yellow dwarf. On the fourth moon of the second planet, there were two species that showed far more intelligence than the other living creatures, and there were signs of an escalating conflict. Having nothing better to do, I redirected my Z-space engines to bring me to the system.

Upon closer investigation, war had indeed broken out between the two species. However, one was naturally carnivorous, and they easily exterminated the opposing herbivores. Their populations boomed after the victory, as no other creature on the moon posed a threat. I conjectured that, in a few thousand years, they would start forming more complex societies. And maybe they would discover the intricacies of politics and rulers. And maybe they would proceed to lord over the moon and spread throughout the galaxy, oozing arrogance out of their every membrane.

Perhaps it was a lapse of insanity, or boredom, or spite against the Lai-Chok government. Nonetheless, the very thought of those species developing and growing sickened me, so I decided to send a probe down to the surface of the moon. It captured a few specimens and returned them to my planetoid body.

Visually, the carnivores did not look very threatening. They had few natural weapons and only had the most basic inklings of sentience. However, their DNA showed potential for change, and I began my work.

After I was done with my modifications, they were— quite simply— engineered machines. Their pure blue eyes were capable of targeting a victim's most vital organs; their skin was elastic and flexible, doubling as both a defensive protection and an offensive advantage; and on top of all that, they had a howl designated to kill. Yet, I made sure that the carnivores would never have any strong mental maturity. They would never grow. They would never develop. They would forever remain children. My children. My Howlers.

I released a small group of Howlers back onto the moon. In short, the results were brilliant. Within three kiloflows, they reduced the planet's biodiversity by 78%. On the surface, there were no more power cycles of species surpassing other species. My Howlers were unmatched, and there were absolutely no exceptions to that fact.

Suddenly, this new galaxy that at first seemed so barren now teemed with possibilities. If I could make the life on one moon of one planet so incredibly and beautifully simple, why couldn't I with others? This would be my game: simplification and perfection. I would craft a galaxy with absolute order.

I gathered my creations and began to explore. Constantly, I looked to simplify, to reduce, to eliminate the superfluous. I forcibly pitted species against species, making one exterminate the other. Those who learned my name cursed it. I brushed aside their insults and empty threats. They didn't see the overarching beauty of it. I did.

My game soon became an obsession. By reducing, I simplified. By simplifying, I perfected. By perfecting, I won.

And I needed to win.

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><p><strong>(1) A "flow" is a unit of time. It uses SI prefixes because… that makes sense?<strong>


	2. Gunshot

**A/N: This story bumped the rating up to "T," so there's your warning. Dark themes ahead.**  
><strong>Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Animorphs.<strong>

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><p>Arbron waits anxiously as the low-atmosphere spaceship nears its final destination. His pincers grab at the manual controls, although he knows that he cannot change the ship's programming. There is no need to anyways; they have already devised the perfect solution. The Taxxons are comfortable enough in their new forms, and now they don't have to deal with the maddening, insatiable hunger. Still, no humans or Andalites were willing to ride in the spaceship with a <em>nothlit<em> Taxxon and thousands of giant snakes. Without a purpose, he walks back and forth in the control room aimlessly. Bored, worried, and eager, an indescribable feeling gnawing uncomfortably at his stomach.

He feels a sharp pang of hunger. Slowly and reluctantly, he drags himself to the supply room to eat another meal. In the halls, he sees a lounging boa constrictor. _An easy meal_, his stomach thinks, taunting and coaxing him to rush at the motionless reptile. _No danger here. Eat, eat. Hunger. Meal. Eat._ The snake eyes him curiously. Its upper body uncoils and it raises itself into the air, waving back and forth in a mesmerizing pattern. Its tongue flicks out and tastes its surroundings; it senses Arbron's hunger, the hunger of a monstrous creature.

"Haithssss, ssssrrriyaaah." The constrictor gives a harsh, raspy hiss, warning him to stay away. ((Leader Arbron. Control hunger. I am Hive-companion.))

His Taxxon mind disregards these meaningless messages. What importance does anything have compared to the all-consuming hunger of his stomach? _Eat, eat!_ it cries. His claws tap the floor in impatience. He imagines himself opening his drooling mouth ringed with razor-sharp teeth, wrapping the snake in his long tongue, listening to its furious sputters and hisses as it tries to escape the ravenous maw of the Taxxon.

_Stop_, his mind commands him. ((My apologies,)) Arbron mutters embarrassingly to the snake before continuing his journey to the supply room. It has been nearly twenty Earth years since his _nothlitism_. Why can he still not control the hunger? His brain tries to rationalize this thought, but it is too difficult to concentrate on anything for long when desperate cries are coming from his starved stomach. He orders the computer to prepare him a meal, the fifteenth of the day, which he greedily devours. He stays in the supply room for the rest of the trip. _No use going anywhere else_, he thinks.

The spaceship reaches the Amazon Rainforest without any further difficulties and begins to unload its passengers. He watches as thousands of snakes languidly slither down the ramp and into the dense thicket of trees and bushes. He himself steps out into the wilderness, examining his surroundings through the broken vision of his compound eyes. He turns around, watching the spaceship as is rises above the canopy and fades into the fractured greenish-blue sky. He feels another pang of hunger.

He heads into the woods to see where the other Taxxons have gone, except now they aren't Taxxons. They are snakes. They have the body of snakes. They share their minds with snakes. When they reproduce, their offspring will be snakes, not burdened by any sort of sentience. He is the only Taxxon in this insignificant region of space for several parsecs. An overwhelming feeling of isolation sweeps over him, engulfing him, swallowing him whole.

His days are uneventful, filled with nothing but hunting for another meal. His stomach is unsatisfied though, and forever shrieks and writhes in agony. _More food. Eat, eat._ The torturous cries are unbearable. Why should he continue to suffer in this living hell? The Taxxon resistance has prevailed. The Yeerks were defeated. And with that, he realizes that his life has no purpose anymore.

He does try it a few times. He finds a river where he knows the piranhas could devour him in seconds. But before he does, a python slithers out from underneath a bed of leaves and watches him closely. He looks down at the river, back to the python, and walks away from the waterside.

Another time, he finds a steep precipice, a strange sight in a lush, dense forest. He stands on the edge, balancing precariously with his multitude of legs. His brain wills him to take one more step forward. His sense of self-preservation kicks in, refusing to let him continue. He turns around, scuttling away from the cliff, looking for another meal.

One day he hears voices. A loud crunching of leaves and cracking of branches that make their way through the rainforest; obviously the sound of humans. He eavesdrops on them until his universal translator is able to decode their speech. "I've set up five traps in this area and loaded them with bait. The sooner we catch her, the sooner we can sell the fur. I've heard that the prices have doubled since last month."

_Poachers_, he thinks. They would be armed with their primitive projectile weapons- crude, but efficient. They probably have never seen a creature like him before, a mutated, twisted centipede the size of a bull. They would try to protect themselves from this monster that exists only in their nightmares. _Self-preservation is a useful tool_, he thinks to himself dryly.

He watches carefully as the two humans sit down on a fallen log and prepare their meals. _Eat, eat_, his stomach urges. His mind does not try to suppress these feelings; there is no need. Drops of drool begin to gather at the edge of his mouth. He raises his legs in anticipation and charges through the undergrowth.

The humans, startled by the sudden sound of the terrifying creature behind them, jump up in surprise. They spin around, looks of horror etched into their faces. One of them quickly reaches for his gun and aims it at him.

((Please…)) Arbron manages to say.

The human looks surprised, but does not hesitate. A deafening gunshot echoes through the forest.


End file.
